


Strategy

by Alisanne



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 09:15:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7042120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alisanne/pseuds/Alisanne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco's way out is not easy, but at least he has a plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strategy

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings/Enticements:** Mild Angst. 
> 
> **A/N:** Written for Slythindor100's prompt #195: “I can’t promise to fix all of your problems, but I can promise you won’t face them all alone.”
> 
> **Beta(s):** Sevfan and Emynn.
> 
> **Disclaimer:** The characters contained herein are not mine. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.

~

Strategy

~

Draco stared at the blank wall before him. He had nothing left, no hope. The charges being brought against him, against his family, were hard to refute. They _had_ harboured the Dark Lord, _had_ participated in his plans for world domination. As far as Draco could tell, he had no way out of this. And no plans for an escape. He was fucked, and not in a good way. 

Someone approached, pulling Draco out of his thoughts, and before he even entered the holding cell, Draco knew who it was. His magic shone, a beacon in the darkness. Draco would have known who was there even if his eyes had been closed. 

The blank wall shimmered and someone stepped through. 

“Why are you here, Potter?” Draco asked without looking up. “Shouldn’t you be off, oh, I don’t know, revelling in the spoils of your win or something?” Tired, he rubbed the bridge of his nose and for about the millionth time wished he’d never heard of the Dark Lord. Or been involved in the war. Maybe he should have listened to his father and gone to Durmstrang. As if that would have changed anything. 

“For your mother, actually,” came Potter’s surprising reply.

Looking up, Draco eyed Potter. He wore clothes that fit properly and for the first time in years, he looked refreshed, relaxed. Understandable, really, since, for the first time since childhood, someone wasn’t trying to kill him. A bright future was probably stretching out before him. It must be nice, Draco thought. “And I repeat. Why?” 

“I owe her a debt.” Uninvited, Potter drew out the chair across from Draco’s, taking a seat. Of course he probably didn’t need an invitation. Draco imagined the Aurors were begging for Potter to join their ranks. “And when I went to see her, she asked me to intervene on your behalf.” 

“And what exactly can you do?” Draco was under no illusions about his situation. It was precarious at best, really. Despite the lack of a Mark on his arm, he was a known associate of Death Eaters in a time when everyone was looking for someone to blame for what had happened. The public seemed to have expected him, at seventeen, to have thrown the Dark Lord out of the Manor rather than live with him. Draco snorted to himself. It would almost be amusing if people weren't actually serious. 

“I can’t fix all your problems, but I can testify at your trial. You won’t have to face the Wizengamot alone.” Potter rested his arms on the table before leaning forward. He looked earnest, sincere. It made Draco want to sick up. 

“And why would you do that?” Draco asked. “What do you get out of it?”

A look of utter bewilderment crossed Potter’s face. He shrugged. “Nothing. I just promised your mum—”

“Are you testifying for her, too?” Draco interrupted. He glared at Potter. “This isn’t at the expense of speaking for her, is it?” 

“I’m speaking for both of you,” Potter said, tone firm. “And as far as why…Well, she protected me in the forest. I owe her.” 

Draco shook his head. “Is that what you think? She told me what happened. She was protecting _me_.” 

Potter smiled faintly. “I know. And now she’s doing it again.” 

“And Father?” Draco thought he knew the answer to that, and the look of horror and distaste that crossed Potter’s face proved him right. 

“Erm—”

Draco waved a hand. “Never mind. Forget I asked.” Lucius was on his own. To be honest, Draco wasn’t sure even Potter’s testimony would keep him out of Azkaban. “So what does your help in this matter involve?”

“I spoke with your solicitor, and she says the charges against you are weak at best. She also says…” 

As Potter droned on, Draco watched him, watched his lips move, watched his mobile face which hid nothing. He’d been watching Potter since age eleven, he knew him, knew his moods, what food he liked, his moves on the Quidditch pitch, but in that moment he realised he didn’t know him at all. 

“You really think any of this will save me?” Draco interrupted, waving his hand between them. “You think they won’t just find some other way to get me?” He shook his head. “You don’t get it, do you? If this doesn’t work, they’ll only come up with something else.” 

Potter blinked and something shifted in his expression. His eyes went hard, implacable, and for a moment Draco recalled where he’d seen Potter look like that before. It was when he’d faced the Dark…Voldemort. When he’d, against all odds, defeated him. It was impressive, and despite himself, Draco felt something coil low in his gut. Desire. Want so dizzying it made Draco’s mouth go dry, his heart pound. 

Damming his attraction to men with power, Draco tried to push it away. Potter’s pull had always been there, not that Draco had ever wanted to acknowledge it.

“Then I’ll defend you against that, too,” Potter said. 

Draco tried to look away, but Potter’s eyes held his. There was something intense in those eyes, and for a moment, Draco thought he saw matching desire shining back at him. Could it be? Heart in his throat, Draco decided to follow his instincts. “My hero,” he said softly. “At this rate I’m going to have come up with a way to repay you myself.” 

Potter flushed, his eyes shifting away, and Draco had his answer. Fucking hell, Potter was bent, too, and that meant…Well, it meant Draco possibly had a way out of this hell he’d put himself in. And maybe even a chance at real happiness. If he could only play his Gobstones right. 

While Draco’s mind had been racing, Potter had been saying something about how that wouldn’t be necessary, about how Draco wouldn’t owe him, but when Draco cleared his throat, he stopped. 

“If this works, I will owe you,” Draco said. “And I pay my debts. You can take that to Gringotts.” 

Potter inclined his head. “We’ll deal with that later,” he said. “Right now here’s what I plan to say at your trial…” 

And as Potter planned their trial strategy, Draco planned his seduction. It was good to have a plan. Perhaps the fucking the universe had in store for him _was_ the good kind. 

~


End file.
